Saturday, February 5, 2011

Because my wounds are open, they're bleeding life.

I had never been drunk before. NEVER. I had never forced the bitter taste down my throat just for the heck of it. NEVER. I had never wanted to be reckless and uncontrollable. NEVER. Some thought that it was an act, others thought that I was immature. I'd rather be the latter, I'd never wanted to grow up so fast. But today, I sat quietly at the bar, drowning myself in the overpowering strength of the bitterness that rotted the taste on my tongue, burning my insides as I tried to gulp it down faster every time. I didn't like the taste, though I marveled the way it played with my head. Thoughts were a blur, exactly how I wished they were all the time. The irony. Today, I wanted to sleep. Tomorrow I wanted to get up, not remembering what I did, not remembering tonight before it happened, not remembering the person I was just now. Why? Because I wanted to forget tonight.

I was alone. I stared at the cardboard box in front of me. Memories. That's what it was full off. Memories of her. Her... He couldn't forget her. And it killed me because I could never hold her place. It killed me because he held THAT place in me. Today, she came back. And the memories he stored away in that box, it seemed, took a long deep breath that blew my way in strong gusts of winds, the black blinding smoke of a crowded past I could never make him forget. I played with his favorite lighter. He always kept it on the bar in a small custom made box. I made a small game of the sparks I saw, every second one bursting into a sudden tiny flame.

My aim usually sucked. I could almost never catch a ball before it hit my head, or throw it to someone before it hit theirs. Today, as I threw the lighter into the box, I couldn't help but think how wrong I had been about my aim. I saw the box burn to ashes. The fire dying as soon as every page of every journal, every picture of every moment he cherished, every souvenir of a long lost love, was lost in the tides of hatred and revenge. I knew she was never going to stay. I knew she was going to kill the remnants of every little hope he had had for them. I knew and he did too, but I wasn't going to wait for anything to sink in.

I knew I had killed a part of him just there. Every little thing he had held on to, every little thing he thought he would hold on to for an eternity that would end only with him, had been brutally stabbed until they bled in flames of hurt. I had killed a part of him right there. And as I walked out the door, I left that part of him on the floor, only to be discovered by someone who wouldn't be able to kill himself, or live with the nothingness I had created by burning away his years.

12 comments:

A very modest character, as close to human as it can get. I guess she also burned with the flame she had ignited. She knew she killed any meager hope of making it with him in future.And she knew she helped the cause. Making it easier for him, to get past her without the burden and guilt of breaking her heart. She took the blame. Sweet pain, I always see it in you stories.

Sometimes, its best to forget. Its best to let go, and for that, if you need to guzzle down some bitterness so be it. Very well written. =)

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